


D Strider's YouTube Monologues

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [24]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, Dialogue, Gen, Humor, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: I absolutely hate that title, give me a better one. Anyway, this is a collection of transcripts of D's videos posted on the main safehouse channel! (For more info on that, check the tag "safehouse channel" on my Tumblr.)





	1. Hello Y'all

_When the camera comes on, it's actually pointing pretty near straight at the floor. There's a couple seconds of muffled swearing and darkness as it's adjusted; then the guy in front of the camera takes his hand away, sitting back in the desk chair and grinning as he fidgets with his shirt._

"Okay, well, Hal fuckin' fails at setting shit up, but I still love him—anyway, hi! I'm D Strider, pretty sure you've seen me in a shitton of the videos on here. Or maybe you follow my actual channel and you're here 'cause of the announcement that I'll be posting the vids here instead of there since _this_ channel actually has followers—" 

_From somewhere off-camera and relatively distant, someone yells,_ "It's your own fault you don't know how to promote your YouTube channel, D!" 

"—eat dick, Dave— _anyway_ , this video is pretty much just me saying hi and giving y'all a heads-up that I'll be holding court here once in a while. As in, whenever I got a reason to let y'all know about current events in the House of Strider—" 

_This time, it's someone else yelling, with a different level of muffling. Different room than Dave, probably._ "He'll be on when he wants attention, more like it!" 

_D very obviously pouts, and leans so far back in his chair it almost tips over._

"Fuck you too, Roxy!" 

_Back to the camera, with a slightly sheepish grin._

"...y'all are probably going to be in the comments going off on how I'm a total attention whore, aren't you. Eh, I can live with that." 

"Anyway, I think I covered today's topic. And _yeah,_ I know that this is a short-ass excuse for a video, but hey, this is just a quick hello, right? Introduce myself real quick, give y'all somewhere to scream at me in the comments, all that fun shit. Which reminds me that you're all one hundred percent invited to start shit in those comments; I'm down for drama. Just keep in mind that bad shit _will_ happen if you decide you gotta start in with the bigoted shit; there's a list of guidelines in the channel description, plus I think John and Jake made a video." 

"...I'm off-track, aren't I." 

"Eh, whatever. D Strider, signing right the fuck off; talk to y'all rad fuckers later!"


	2. My Sister Roasted My Fashion Sense And Now I'm The Subject Of A Lawsuit

_This time when the video starts, the camera is at least pointed in the right direction, right at a grinning D. He looks more than happy, actually; more like proud of himself. Also slightly ruffled and rumpled, like he's been wrestling with someone and may not have won. Which begs the question of who he was scuffling with, since he definitely wouldn't look this pleased if he'd lost to one of the boys._

"Hey y'all, it's D Strider up here with, like, some awesome shit to relate. Well, some cool shit anyway. As in, today I did some cool shit." 

_Pause._

" ...well, somewhat cool."

_Longer pause._

"...okay, so I threw a iced macchiato at Roxeanne, but it was _really_ awesome and also I was _provoked_ and she definitely got her revenge in afterwards and—"

_D remembers that humans have to breathe, and cuts himself off so he can do that. It's sometimes difficult to believe that this is a functioning adult who's already raised one kid to adulthood._

"Oof. Alright, let's actually start at the beginning, right?" 

"Now, y'all might not know Roxanne, due to the fact that she lives way up in Fuck Off Unless You Like Snow, Washington. And apparently she _does_ like snow, because she very rarely makes her way down here to take a vacation in the not-freezing part of America, but today was a rare yet not unexpected exception. As in, Rox and Rose coaxed her down for some kind of family reunion?" 

"Why do we need a reunion again? Like, Rose spends most of her time up around Fuck Off, Washington too, but we all keep in contact pretty much constantly, you know? Rose _is_ our resident witch even though she's not technically resident, Roxanne consults on the big jobs—shit, Hal is giving me notifications to stop talking about the spooky shit, whoops." 

"But the point stands; why the hell do we need a reunion when we—wait, this was an excuse to have a party, wasn't it." 

_Exasperated sigh. Grin. Eye-roll. Maybe not in that exact order._

"They could have just _said_ that." 

"Does anyone remember where I was going with this?" 

"Oh yeah, Roxanne. Anyway, do y'all have any idea how irritating it is to have your lil' sis sit there and just fuckin' drag your outfit to hell and back? I mean, it's not like it's even that bad—" 

_From what the camera is capturing of it, it is, in fact, that bad. It works for him, probably because one of D Strider's superpowers is "not giving one flying fuck about anyone's definition of style but his own," but he's wearing a k-pop kitten t-shirt under an obviously high-end (if rumpled) suit jacket, and a tie that appears to have guinea pigs on it. Roxanne's comments may have been merited._

"—and she is like the absolute _queen_ of roasting me. I'm talking world-class, this woman could cook thanksgiving dinner just by insulting its feathers. Unlike Karkat, who could probably set a turkey on fire with creative profanity—goddamn it, Hal, fix your fucking algorithms, that's not me talking about spooky shit! I don't need a pop-up telling me to quiet down about how much that dude swears!" 

" _Anyway._ I can stand, like, five minutes of Roxanne going after me, right? Maybe ten if I'm drunk, half an hour if I'm high. Also on that note, I'm not advising alcohol and drugs as a way to deal with whoever might be dragging y'all; that shit kinda ain't worth it in the long run. Go dig through my other channel and find the vids I uploaded at three AM or so; I know there's some where I'm absolutely wrecked, and I'm _functional_ when I'm drunk." 

"God, I'm the king of segues." 

"But see, Roxanne will usually back off _right before_ I snap and make an attempt to force her to eat her words—and no, I don't wanna hear about how y'all think I shouldn't hit a girl, _this_ girl has the same combat training I do and multiple firearms on her person at all times, if I was actually in a position to hurt her she'd have me on the ground trying not to bleed out from a leg shot before I did any real damage. Not that she'd shoot _me._ I'm the nice brother." 

_Sweet, innocent smile. Then he cracks up laughing, calming down after another couple seconds._

"Today, however, she (correctly) assumed that I wasn't going to just tackle her and try to get her in a headlock because all the kids and their significant others are here, and I do have _some_ sense of tact. Yes, you can pause the video to laugh hysterically now, I won't be offended. Well, maybe a little offended. Nah, I'm just joking, I know I'm a classless dumbass half the time, it's fine. There's a reason John calls me a dork." 

"...admittedly, that may be because he calls _everyone_ a dork." 

"Anyway, Roxanne spent maybe fifteen minutes going over every single flaw in my ensemble, of which there are evidently many—" 

_That's an understatement._

"—and I'm sitting there getting more and more miffed, right? Like absolutely chuffed. I hope that word means what I think it means; I stole it from Jake. The point is, I'm drinking my macchiato, trying to mind my own business and not really being allowed to, and at some point I have just had _enough._ " 

"I bet you all can guess what happened next, right?" 

_D leans forward, dark red eyes wide and amused._

"Did you know that if the lid's on nice and tight, it won't come off when you chuck it at your sister? However, it definitely _will_ come off when it hits her, and let me tell you that it's like a liquid bomb. Fuck, Jane had to be five feet away and she got splashed a little, but unlike _Roxanne_ , sweet Jane has enough sense to not wear expensive _white_ dresses to what's basically a glorified barbecue. Like, even if I hadn't thrown the coffee at her that was just asking for trouble, come on." 

"And of course she tackled me as soon as the shock wore off. I got a good ten feet head start, though. My bad luck that she's still fast as fuck...and that she can totally kick my ass. I'm surrounded by tough hunters, what can I say?" 

"Jesus, Hal, your program flagged the word 'hunter,' didn't it? You know what, fuck you, hunter, hunter, hunter-hunter-hunter—" 

_The audio cuts out, and remains off for a good minute. D does not stop talking. It doesn't look like he says anything other than "hunter," either, until the audio comes back in._

"—fuck your secrecy, you're my kid, not my babysitter—but anyway, Roxanne kicked my ass, but seeing her that surprised was worth both the beatdown _and_ the loss of my beverage." 

"Also now she's going to sue me, apparently. Also, I'm technically supposed to be coming right back to the party, not filming this, so like, I'm gonna sign off now so I don't have Rosie after my hide too. Like and subscribe, if you haven't already; D Strider out."


	3. Today Was Really Fucked Up And You Shouldn't Watch This Video

_The camera comes on, and this time D isn't grinning at it. Not really. Yes, he finds a smile after a second, but it's too brief and too weak, not at all close to his usual cheerful self._

"...hey, y'all. 

"I'm gonna, uh...give you fair warning here, just in case you didn't actually, like, read the title on this vid. This ain't a fun storytime, y'all. Some shit went down, I feel bad about it, I'm talkin' it through here. I'm gonna actually go a lil' farther, say that if you don't want depressing shit, you oughta go watch some of the old vids, alright? Like, I..."

_He trails off. Runs one hand through his hair, which is more of a mess than usual, and not in an "attractively disheveled" way._

"I'm having a bad day. That's one way to put it. 

"See, fuck, I feel worse now too, because Dirk's the one who's _really_ having the bad day. I came home from a job, checked my phone and found about ten texts apiece from both his boyfriends and Rose. He—fuck. We're just gonna say he had a, a mental problem. Reaction to some shit triggered it, don't wanna go into the details here but he..."

_D sighs and rubs one hand across his face; it's a surprisingly rough-looking gesture._

"He almost died. 

"My kid almost died. My kid almost fucking _died,_ and I don't even find out about it until the next day. He came— _this_ close to killing himself, he won't admit it but I see the way Jake keeps touching his shoulder and John won't walk away from him and it's _obvious,_ okay, it's—

_This time, he cuts himself off sharply, face twisting as he swallows hard against whatever reaction he's stifling. A sob? Maybe. When he continues, his voice is noticeably rougher._

"I think this is the third time. For Dirk. 

"He almost died when he was ten, you know that? Six pounds of pull on a trigger away from it. Maybe less than six. I don't know. My bastard of a younger brother stopped that shit before it could happen, thank god. If there's an afterlife, I think saving Dirk might've taken a couple years off the sentence Bro'll be serving in hell. 

"The scars on his neck, I know everyone who watches the main channel's seen them. Hell, some of y'all even asked where he got 'em, even if you didn't get answers. You're not getting answers now, either...but that almost killed him. They're from something he had to do, trying to keep other people safe, and he almost died. 

"And yesterday. 

"A stupid little twist of fucking _chance,_ and he could have died. 

"This...this is...fuck."

_D winces and spins his chair around slowly, taking his face out of full view for the moment._

"Y'know, I trained him since he was a kid. Bro got Dave, I got Dirk, we kind of swapped off sometimes but that was...mostly how it worked. And yeah, Dave died, but that's not...it's not the same, okay? That was a fucked-up prophecy, not normal hunter wear 'n tear. His shit, he's always handled it really fuckin' well. 

"Maybe I did something wrong. 

"...sometimes I wish we hadn't trained them. Either of them, Dirk or Dave. They're so fucking _young,_ okay? Was I hunting when I was twenty-something? 

"Probably. Must've been; Bro and me, we both started young. 

"But Dave and Dirk, they shouldn't've had to.

"I dunno. 

"I feel bad. I feel like I fucked up. I feel like all the shit I've done, all the people I've kept alive, mean fuck-all, because the fact that my kid's alive has nothing to do with me.

"I—

"Fuck." 

_D is silent for a moment, turned fully away from the camera. Then he abruptly swivels around, hands groping blindly for the key to end the video. If you pause just right, look close enough, it's obvious that there's tears in his eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who found angstfest in their drafts! also this goes right after Loss Of Control, if y'all were wondering!


	4. I Got Tortured By Amateurs

_The video cuts in and—oh dear lord, D._

"Hey y'all, you would not _believe_ the shit I've had to deal with today!"

_That's...probably accurate. D looks like he's had the shit beat out of him; one side of his mouth is bruised and swollen, probably split open, and there's a pattern of bruises across his face that start with a black eye and spread out from there. He's also not wearing a shirt, which means that not only are his normal patchwork mess of scars visible, but it's obvious that whoever he fought didn't keep their punches to his face; there's less bruises across his chest, but the scattered cuts there more than make up for it._

_At least he seems pretty happy, even if he winces when he smiles too wide and every word comes out a little slurred. He's still grinning, and he's_ definitely _still talking._

"I got...tortured! Ta-dah!" 

_He gestures at himself with both hands. Well, this does explain some things._

_Who are we kidding, this explains nothing. What the fuck._

"Yeah, just not very well? Like lookin' at all the info I'm gonna say these guys were amateurs. Enthusiastic amateurs." 

_If these were amateurs, we'd hate to see professionals. It's entirely possible that D just isn't registering how awful he looks, though. Or maybe he's just used to this sort of thing; he certainly_ seems _nonchalant, as he tips his chair back onto two legs._

"So. Story time! Damn, I'm gonna be that one grandpa who won't fuckin' shut up about the good ol' days, I know I am. But yeah, this was a hunter thing." 

_Pause._

"....and thank you Hal, for fixing your goddamn flagging system. I'd like to thank the academy. Also my kids, for pulling my ass outta the fire before I was as crispy as a goose wrapped in Rosie's patented 'I will totally remember that this is in the oven and not be reminded by the smoke alarm' bacon. Like, how the hell does she _do_ that? Does she not smell it? Is my god damn niece immune to bacon smell.

"Huh. Did I eat since I got back?" 

_D ponders that for a moment, the chair wobbling slightly as he takes more of his attention off balancing._

"Yeah, I must've ate, can't take this kinda pain meds on an empty stomach. 

"I'm not doing so well with the talking in one direction shit today, huh?

_D, we love you, but you're really not, no._

"Eh, blame it on the meds. Anyway. Okay. So. 

"Today, I proved that you shouldn't hunt alone. Even if it's just checking a message drop point. Like, maybe _especially_ if you're checking the message drop point? I can't really think of any other time that a Strider got hit over the head and grabbed, y'know?

"I still dunno what the hell they thought they were doing. Recruiting me? Sweetheart, if you walk up to me and straight-out tell me you got a demon-worshipping cabal started and you want some muscle, I'm gonna ask you if you have handouts. Which you probably don't. Like c'mon, guys, you can convert people to _anything_ with nice enough paperwork. Just look at uhhhh shit okay I can't think of literally any religions right now, guys, but go look up some and tell me that that shit makes sense." 

_We believe you, D. We also wish that you'd put all four legs of your chair back on the floor, and maybe not direct your soliloquy solely at the ceiling. Can you breathe?_

"Plus if you're gonna recruit someone, you don't start in with the face! How're they gonna—shit, Scientology, that's the thing I was tryin' to think of—how're they gonna say 'oh yeah sure I'll work for you, just stop hittin' me' if you busted their mouth open?

"Dumb shoddy ass cultist shit. 

"But anyway, so they grabbed me, knocked me right the hell out, I woke up in a stupid cliche room with like, the bare walls 'n blood on the floor, one lightbulb, the whole nine yards. I mean either they cobbled this shit together to get as interrogate-y as humanly possible or they _really_ suck at interior decorating, y'know? Maybe both. Probably both. 

"And for some reason they had a sexy chick doin' the talking? Like full-on dominatrix shit, she had so fuckin' much black leather and a goddamn _whip._ Which was the one fuckin' professional thing there, by the way—the whip, not the leather. Had like...five tails? Not nine, I'm thinking five. Tipped each one with metal." 

_D taps his collarbone with two fingers, not quite touching any of the myriad cuts._

"Hurt like _shit._ And the whole time she's tellin' me to give in, give 'em what they want, yeah? Fuckin' stupid, y'know—you didn't tell me what you wanted, dumbass! I'm as clueless as you! Do I need to bleed for this? Really?" 

_It's quite likely that the only reason D raises his head is so that the camera can catch his exasperated expression._

"And she was _trying._ To _seduce_ me." 

_Oh, the horror. The sheer unmitigated insult._

"I told her I had a boyfriend and she slapped me. Bitch.

"I'm one fucking hundred percent sure she was on a script, though. Wanna know how I know?

_D, what are you about to say. Why are you smiling like that._

"Of course you do! So see, I'm sitting there, blood all over my face, seriously wondering if she took off a nipple with the goddamn whip of doom, and she leans down and goes—and she's _so_ fucking menacing, like I'm supposed to be intimidated—she says 'fear me, hunter. Fear me, and love me, and do as I say.' 

"And I fuckin'. I fucking _lost_ my _shit._ Do you know what that string 'a words brings up in my goddamn mind? Dirk, when he was like _twelve,_ rewinding the Labyrinth DVD _over_ and _over_ again just so he could watch fuckin' Bowie tell the girl that a zillion times! She comes up with the fucking movie quote and all I see is my baby bro with his first gay crush, and I start laughing and don't fuckin' stop until she clocks me. 

"With the lamp, actually. Like this was an actual lamp with the shade taken off, not just a lightbulb on a string. I think it was made out of brass. Something heavy, right to my face. Poor face. So I've been knocked out twice today, which I do _not_ recommend, and I missed my kids kicking a chick's ass. Woke up, and everybody was hoverin' like they thought I was gonna have an alien pop out of my chest.

"Mmm. I'm gonna go find Grey and make him watch that one movie with the dude from Ghostbusters in it, actually. Maybe have him make me soup so I can make jokes about it during the chestbuster scene. God I love that man. _Much_ better than a dominatrix cultist lady.

"Later, dudes. And dudettes. And whatever else decided to drop in." 

_D leans over and turns off the camera, leaving us all both amused and really, really confused. Hopefully he finds Grey quickly; being unsupervised probably isn't the best idea for this glorious idiot just now._

_Eh, he'll be fine._


	5. Do Not Fucking Mention My Hair

_We all already know, at this point, that D Strider is pretty damn expressive when he wants to be. Through every video he's posted, he's been quite open about whatever emotion he's feeling, which means that today's mood is quite obviously...disgruntlement._

_(Is that a word?)_

_Anyway. D leans back from turning the camera on, crossing his arms over his chest and opening his mouth. A bare instant later he obviously rethinks his planned course of action, uncrossing his arms to shake a finger at the camera._

"Don't. Say. _Anything_. About my hair."

_His hair is pink. It's the kind of bright neon pink that has the vibrancy that's usually quite difficult to achieve without bleaching out every iota of natural color. Of course, his hair always has been pretty damn close to white to begin with._

"Fun fact: I fucking _hate_ the first day of this month. The day after March thirty-first. We're not even gonna speak the name of this fucking—so-called holiday, alright? Jesus." 

_D mutters what sounds like a string of swear words under his breath, and runs one hand through his brilliant hair. His fingers come away pink._

"Yes, I got caught by John. And if y'all leave comments about how this is a good thing, kudos for the kid, whatever the fuck, I'm deactivating comments. Just so you know." 

_The man is an attention whore, so that's an extremely unlikely course of events._

"Like, look, we actually plan for this shit, y'know? John looks forward to April fool's for fuckin' months, plans shit out weeks in advance—you know how much work it is to wrap every one of Hal's routers in tinfoil? He loves this shit. John, not Hal. Hal's plotting revenge right now. Maybe following through on it, actually.

"What was I saying? I was saying something. Hang on." 

_There's a bit of a jump in the video, here. Like D saved what he'd already recorded, watched it, and then started up again. He's got that slightly-embarrassed look like that's what he did, too._

"Sorry, y'all, I kinda think I mistimed my meds. John fucked with my alarm and I ended up taking 'em too early.

"Anyway, John's the one who sets up pranks 'n shit, but we all plan for this, actually? Like, there's a form Hal made; we all add to it, what ain't okay. You don't do anything that fucks with how Dirk looks, no fake calls for me, Dave doesn't get jumpscared. Triggery shit, 'n shit that we just plain don't like.

"Guess who didn't put 'don't touch my goddamn hair' on the list?" 

_D huffs again, his hand coming up halfway and then stopping as he realizes that his fingers are a nice shade of magenta. Wiping them on his paw-print t-shirt leaves bright pink streaks on the yellow fabric, but doesn't actually get any of the tint off his skin; it's really not surprising that after a moment he just groans and tips his chair back onto its back legs._

"Oh, for the love of fu—" 

_The next thing that happens is predictable to everyone except D: the chair's back legs give out. Egbert strikes again, to the fanfare of D getting out one yelp that's choked off as he crashes to the floor._

_...is he dead._

_Nope, there he is, staggering to his feet with an absolutely murderous expression on his face. That would be terrifying if it wasn't connected to a man wearing a pawprint shirt and bright pink hair._

"John!" 

_He's probably not going to get an answer to that. Even if he does, it won't be recorded for posterity; D smacks the off button for his camera as he stalks out of the room. The screen's only black for a moment, though; then new pink text comes up, like an end card._

**happy april fool's! :B**


End file.
